


Can I trust you?

by Mysenia



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills 2015 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/pseuds/Mysenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cywscross asked: Steter, 10, Peter saying to Stiles (with happy ending preferably). Thx:)</p>
<p>10. Things you said that made me feel like shit</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I trust you?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cywscross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/gifts).



> This prompt kind of stumped me, so I did my best! :)

Peter doesn’t impart information to others easily, pack or otherwise, because he knows how deadly information can be. How devastating one word in the right place can be, how simple it is to destroy. He learned young to guard his secrets closely and that words are bullets that sink deep, revisiting you when you least expect it to dole out damage all over again. 

Needless to say he’s close lipped and smarmy when he gets together with Stiles as a result. He hasn’t learned, hasn’t let himself learn, how to interact on an emotional level with anyone. 

Stiles is very free with his information, but Peter notices that though he talks lot, he imparts very little new information. It soothes the worry that Stiles won’t understand that he can’t just spill his heart out - he’s found an equal in that respect. 

That knowledge sits in the back of his mind, always reminding him that it’s okay to let go because Stiles guards his own secrets almost as well as Peter - Stiles will guard his secrets as well. So while Peter doesn’t start completely dumping all his feelings and concerns and secrets into Stiles’ awaiting ears, he does relax more around the young man.

As the months go on and they become more comfortable in their relationship, in themselves and each other, Peter finds it gets easier to stop censoring himself. It eases an ache in him that he never knew he had. He didn’t realise how angry and frustrated it was making him to keep bottling himself up. Peter adds it to the growing list of things to be thankful for concerning Stiles.

The first time Stiles mentions something reminding him of his mother, Peter finds himself responding in kind. It hurts, talking about his family, but Stiles smiles his sad smile - one of commiseration and understanding, love and hurt. Stiles hurts for Peter and it’s a breath of fresh air because Peter finds himself able to feel the same for Stiles.

Peter finds himself telling Stiles things, simple things really, but the more he reveals the better he feels. 

When Peter turns to Stiles one day and says, “I used to sit under the apple tree hoping an apple would fall on me so I could be like Newton.” Stiles laughs, but Peter doesn’t feel like he’s being made fun of. Stiles has that special glint in his eye as he listens, and Peter knows that this one is the one. 

Stiles is his, and he’s realising just how much he is equally Stiles’. He never thought he’d find someone with whom he could be himself, fully and without reproach. 

Peter, later, whispers his love into Stiles’ neck.

* * *

They’re all at the loft, holding a pack meeting in only the loosest sense. It’s more eating and gabbing than talking strategies. Peter doesn’t much like these gatherings, preferring a quiet - or not so quiet - night at his apartment with Stiles by his side. Peter’s lost in thought when he hears Stiles talking and focuses back on the conversation.

“Dude wanting to be a superhero when you’re young is like, every kids wish. Except maybe Peter!” Stiles throws his head back and laughs. Peter feels his gut clench.

“What what what? Come on Stiles,” Scott whines at him. The pack are all gathered casually around the couch, except for Peter, who is off near the kitchen. “What’s so funny?”

“Peter,” Stiles gasps in air. “Peter wanted to be Isaac Newton. Apple falling on his head and all! Fucking adorable.” Stiles wipes at his eyes, having laughed so hard his eyes teared up. He’s not laughing maliciously. The rest of the pack start too though. 

Peter knows he feels betrayed, but he’s never felt this overwhelming all consuming nausea that grips him in that moment. 

Peter begs off early, only pecking Stiles on the cheek as he leaves. The fresh air doesn’t help.

* * *

Peter doesn’t bring up the issue with Stiles, unsure if it’s even really that important. He thinks maybe Stiles will poke fun at him if he says something about it, so he never says anything. 

Peter doesn’t forget what Stiles did, but he does stop reminiscing with Stiles. He finds himself having to bite his tongue when Stiles says something that reminds him of something that happened to him when he was young. It’s aches in his chest, but the ache is an old sort of friend and Peter welcomes it.

It was only the once, and really - Peter reasons - it wasn’t that big a deal. So while he never said anything to Stiles, he does forgive him in his mind.

* * *

Stiles likes to go to the library once a week and read to any children willing to listen. Peter will never admit that he likes watching Stiles surrounded by kids, nurturing them, but he does often accompany Stiles so that he can watch him. 

Stiles’ voice is soothing as it flows over the words, and Peter’s just as enraptured as the kids. He stands at the back, neck straining forward a mimic to the children clamouring closer and closer, wanting more from Stiles.

Stiles finishes his last story, and this time - just as every other - the kids all start talking over each other at Stiles, hoping he’ll pay them special attention.

“Mr. Stiles,” one eager little girl at the front shouts over the rest. “It’s snack time!”

“Is it that time already?” Stiles asks, eyes rounded and mouth dropped open in shock. Peter loves this playful side of him. Loves that Stiles’ attention is focused completely on the little girl in front of him, and yet he’s not ignoring any of the other kids. It’s fascinating. 

“It is!” She giggles. “I brought grapes and crackers and cheese and apple juice and they’re my favourite but my brother likes apples better!” She enthuses.

“You lucky girl! That sounds yummy. I like grapes too! Do you want to know what my boyfriend likes?” Stiles grins over at Peter. Peter feels his heart skip a beat. The little girl nods so frantically that Peter is momentarily worried for her neck. “He likes apple slices and cheese, together!” Stiles tells her like he’s imparting closely guarded information. Which he is. Peter doesn’t like being a source of fascination for others.

“Together?” She asks, scrunching her nose.

“Yup! Apple slice,” Stiles uses his right hand to indicate an apple slice. “Slice of cheese.” He uses his left hand to show the cheese. He then mimes eating them. The kids all guffaw, like he’s just told them the greatest joke.

Peter clenches his jaw and leaves the children’s section of the library. Sweat has gathered under his arms and he strolls around the stacks trying to relax. He is not successful.

* * *

Later on Stiles pesters him about why he didn’t wait for Stiles to finish with the kids before walking off, but Peter finds he cannot explain. How is he supposed to tell Stiles that he was upset that Stiles told a bunch of children about his favourite snack. 

How is he supposed to explain to Stiles that even his eating habits he’s kept closely guarded, and though it’s a minor thing - at least he tries to convince himself it’s just a small matter - it still bothers him that Stiles shares things about him so easily. 

He doesn’t want to see the mockery lighting up Stiles’ eyes that he felt stupid about his snack choice when all the kids started laughing. Still feels stupid about it. Finds himself slicing up his apples and cheese, and then being unable to eat them for the sour memory they produce. 

He just shrugs at Stiles, unable to give him an answer that wouldn’t require lying. Even in this, he cannot find it in him to lie outright to Stiles.

* * *

They’re eating dinner with the Sheriff and Melissa, their weekly Wednesday night get together, and Peter feels the most relaxed he’s been in weeks. It’s calming being around two people who calm Stiles.

Peter’s never told Stiles, but when he’s around his father and Melissa he tends to let off a smell similar to a pup when it’s nursing. It’s the most soothing scent to Peter, and he inhales more than exhales just to gather that feeling into himself. 

They’re all sitting, plates pushed slightly away from their spots, as they lean forward caught up in their conversations. Peter’s talking to the Sheriff about his newest recruit - the Sheriff had thought there was something supernatural about him, but Peter was quick to assure him that the man was really just an untried idiot - and Stiles and Melissa are caught up in their own conversation.

Melissa’s bright laughter draws the Sheriff’s attention, a smile taking over his face as he looks at her, and Peter pauses their conversation. He looks over and sees Stiles’ eyes glued to Melissa, twinkling in their own amusement. Peter finds himself leaning towards Stiles, wanting to know what prompted such a delightful reaction in the two of them.

The Sheriff and Peter don’t interrupt their conversation, the two of them so absorbed in each other that they don’t even notice. Peter feels just as enthralled as the Sheriff looks.

“And then, and then!” Stiles leans back to flail his arms around in emphasis. “And then he says, ‘Noooo I don’t want to be a puppy!’ as he mimicked a dog’s run with his legs and arms. And he started growling and woofing. I laughed so hard I woke him up!” Stiles’ face is suffused with red, the wine and his laughter bringing the colour to his cheeks. 

Peter feels his face whiten as he realises just what Stiles is telling Melissa - that he’s telling Melissa of Peter’s dream of being forced to be a dog by Talia when they were younger, his memories mixing with his dreams to form a weird night torror - dream cross. 

Peter feels his body freeze, shock coursing throughout every inch of him. 

“That’s not funny.” Peter croaks out, his throat tight. He can feel his anger rising.

“Oh come on Peter, it really was.” Stiles laughs out as he turns to look at Peter. His face immediately drops. “Peter?” He reaches out a hand, Peter moves out of his range.

Peter doesn’t want to hear it. He excuses himself from the table and makes his way to the door, finds himself out on the front steps as he hears Stiles behind him. He makes it to the sidewalk before he feels the ghost of Stiles’ warmth by his back, he whirls around and takes measured steps back so Stiles cannot touch him.

“Peter?” Stiles sounds lost. Peter restrains himself from shaking him.

“You don’t even realise it do you.” It’s not a question. “I thought you understood, I thought you were like me. But you’re not. You just go around spewing anything and everything that comes to mind, without a care for how anyone feels.” Peter feels himself heaving with the force of his breaths.

“I,” Stiles pauses, brain whirring. “I hurt you?”

“Yes you hurt me. You made me feel like shit!” Peter yells in Stiles’ face. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Stiles lets out quietly, but Peter is done letting him get away with it.

“You didn’t mean to?! You mean to tell me you didn’t tell the pack about me wanting to be Isaac Newton without the express purpose of humiliating me and making me feel like shit?” Peter looks away from Stiles’ crestfallen face. “I trusted you. I told you my secrets, let myself be _myself_ around you and this is what I get?”

“What else did I say that make you feel like shit?” Stiles asks softly.

“It made me feel like shit when you told those kids about my favourite snack. That’s a part of me that I gave to you! Something I let no one else see, and you just gave it away like it meant nothing.”

“And just now I told Melissa about your dream.” Stiles adds on and Peter looks at him again. Stiles’ face is showing nothing but love and sorrow. This too, that emotion on his face, is making Peter feel like shit. Peter hates that he feels like a failure for this, but he cannot ignore his feelings anymore.

“Yes, my dream where I was tormented by my sister which you had to soothe me from. I show you all these parts of me and you treat them like garbage. I’m not a circus clown for you to parade around to all your friends. My habits and home life are not things I share easily with others and this is why. You treat it like it’s nothing, like it’s common place and to me it isn’t. I let you in and you just trounced all over it, not even asking me how I felt. I’ve had enough. I’m done with you telling people about me and feeling like shit over it.” Peter shakes out his hands from where they’ve been clenched by his side. 

Stiles is silent and Peter turns away from him, not wanting to hear whatever platitude Stiles decides to tell him. 

“You’re right.”

Peter whips around to look at Stiles.

“You are absolutely, 100 percent correct, and I am so so sorry Peter.” Stiles looks and sounds remorseful. “I forgot that those instances were not mine to share. I forgot that you’re as secretive as I am, because you’re so open with me. And I realise that you’re only open with me because we’re together and it’s taken awhile for us to get to this place.”

Peter feels sick with relief. He had been expecting mocking or derision, not understanding, from Stiles. However, Stiles is standing before him, arms open and accepting of his blunder.

“That’s still no excuse.” Peter feels the need to point out, he’s still quite hurt by it all.

“There is no excuse for breaking your trust. All I can ask is that you give me a chance to remedy this. I promise you that I won’t do that again.” Stiles steps forward and Peter’s lets him take his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I expected you to mock me for it.” Peter tells him honestly and Stiles’ face falls again.

“Peter, I would never mock you for expressing your feelings to me.”

Peter eyes him sharply.

“I didn’t tell those stories to mock you Peter. They’re cute little stories that I wanted to share, but I can see how I was wrong.” Stiles looks contrite.

“Cute though you may find them, I entrusted all of them to you and you alone. I trusted you to listen to my past, to take note of my eating habits, and to watch me sleep. I don’t let anyone in but I let you in.”

“You did. And I will do my best from now on to do right by you.” Stiles steps closer to Peter.

Peter still aches but he can feel the anxiety he had over this issue slowly flowing out of his system. 

“Can I ask one thing of you though?” Stiles’ voice pleads. Peter nods. “Can you please tell me if ever I say something that hurts you like this again?” 

It’s a reasonable request, and though part of Peter wants to just cut Stiles off to avoid this feeling again, Peter nods.

Stiles’ face breaks out into a big smile and Peter slumps forward onto him. 

“I’m sorry.” Stiles tells him again. Peter hums.

“I love you.” Stiles nudges his nose against Peter’s ear. Turning his head, Peter catches Stiles’ eye.

“I love you too.” Peter kisses him, relief and love coursing through him at the contact. 

They’re not perfect, and they’re bound to hurt each other again, but they’ll take all the hurdles that come. Even the ones caused by each other.

Stiles is his one, and Peter’s glad he found him.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> ~ M


End file.
